Just A Little Weariness
by Losseiel
Summary: Even if you've taken a life before, seeing a person die under your hands can never cease to traumatize you. Vaguely RoyEdish, set in an AF.


**Just A Little Weariness**

(AN: I think I screwed Roy majorly here. Pleaseforgiveme. It was hard to write him in trauma somehow, and make it believable. / And background info for this piece; they're halfway through Roy's plans to make it as the Fuhrer in my own screwed AU, but they've been stopped by some members of the military, and in self-defense, they killed the soldiers and hid the bodies. It's a short piece depicting the aftermath, and is inspired for the most part by Christina Rossetti's poem, "Uphill", which is included in this oneshot.)

_Does the road wind up-hill all the way?_

It was cold, and dark in the room. Roy didn't really notice it though. He couldn't; his mind kept him occupied instead, running through the vision time after time after time. The last spark of life in the man's eyes had haunted him for hours now, and it didn't show any sign of letting up. In anything, the more he relived the moment when he had sent the man up in flames, the more he remembered it until it was like a brand in his mind.

_Yes, to the very end._

He didn't hear the soft, uneven footfalls behind him as he stared blankly into space. He'd killed before, yes. But when enough was enough, the memory melded with the ones he had of the Ishvar War, when he had taken his first lives.

_Will the day's journey take the whole long day?_

"Colonel," a familiar voice said. Roy started a little in surprise, but he didn't move. He just remained there, like a catatonic, not acknowledging his subordinate. The voice repeated his title again, but he did not stir. _Don't speak_, his mind told the intruder silently. _I want to rest_.

_From morn to night, my friend._

The man behind Roy didn't take the hint. Instead, he walked until he was in front of Roy, then knelt down and looked into his cavernous eyes. "Colonel," he said again, golden eyes narrowed in asperity. "You've been missing for the past day. Even Hawkeye is worried."

_But is there for the night a resting place?_

Roy returned Ed's (_is that anger in your eyes, Fullmetal?_) look for a second or two, then he closed his eyes and turned his head in another direction. "I'm tired," he said simply. "Killing everyone isn't an option."

_A roof for when the slow dark hours begin._

Edward growled. "You're really useless," he said in disgust. Roy didn't answer. He knew he was. He knew he was letting down a lot of people. But just for the moment, he wanted to run, escape reality for a while before he returned to his covert operations to overthrow the Fuhrer and kill some more.

_May not the darkness hide it from my face._

"Shithead." Edward grabbed his hair roughly and pulled it so that Roy faced him. "Look at me, damnit," he said, voice cracking just a little. "LOOK AT ME." Roy, amazingly, obliged, and opened half-lidded eyes to stare blankly at Edward. _Please. Just go away. Don't see this side of me._

_You cannot miss that inn._

"We fucking need you. You can't just crumble on us like that," Edward said, very quickly, and there was a mixture of odd emotions on his face. Roy dully noted that he seemed angry, and sad, and frustrated, and disappointed all at once. He heard Edward speak on, without really listening to him.

_  
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?_

"You're not the only one, damnit. Hawkeye shot someone too, remember, right through the head? Havoc shot the two assassins on the rooftop. Even Falman did. It was for self-preservation. What is wrong with you? You should be lecturing me in that smarmy way you like to, not sitting here like some broken doll!" Roy closed his eyes again. _Edward. Please. Stop. I want to rest, think it over, and offer some thanks that you haven't taken a life yet. Just be grateful and go away already._

_Those who have gone before._

But Edward wouldn't shut up, he just kept rambling. Roy wondered if Edward was frightened. "… You scared us, bastard, when you didn't answer the call. What's wrong with you anyway? We're halfway through, the Fuhrer doesn't know anything. Why are you choosing this fucking time to give up?" He shook Roy by the shoulders violently, voice increasing in volume. "Don't you remember the people who gave up their all for you? 'Cos they believed you could do something! Hughes! Hughes died for you, damnit! Hawkeye gave up so many promotions just to be at your side so you could rise to the top! The others did too! They could have been lieutenants, captains, but no! We're still here, shithead, get a hold of yourself! Why-"

_Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?_

"Edward," Roy said. "Shut up."

_They will not keep you standing at the door._

Edward stopped at last, but his eyes were confused now, as if he didn't quite know what to think now that Roy had finally responded.

_Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?_

"I'm getting up," Roy said wearily. "And I apologize for being irresponsible." Edward retreated, brow furrowed. He looked away from Roy.

_Of labour you shall find the sum._

"Yeah well," Edward said, gaze traveling to the cold grey floor. "Hawkeye's waiting. We'd better hurry back."

_Will there be beds for me and all who seek?_

Quite without warning, Roy leant against Edward. "Just give me a moment," he said, in a very low voice. Edward flinched, as if he wanted to move away, then settled and let his commanding officer rest against him. "Just let me rest for a little while."

_Yea, beds for all who come._

"You'd better get up soon," Edward said, but they sat there for a very long time.


End file.
